Just Stay Down
by Yoshi-G-teh-First
Summary: Professor Layton doesn't take sick leave...Until he has absolutely no choice! (Still no good at summaries! XP R&R please! c: ) (Characters belong to Level-5/Hino-sensei.)
1. Chapter 1: Not Just a Cold

Yes, hello! I am still alive! I know I haven't updated in a _very_ long time, but I am trying to do better. In fact, I'm hoping to get the next chapter of Virus past the rough draft stage soon...ish? No promises, as life does keep getting in the way. Also, I am nearly all caught up on the Layton series! I got into it last year, and spent all summer playing through the prequels. Just two more cases in Mystery Room to go, and I will have beat them all! Anyway, here's a new story for you guys! Enjoy! c:

* * *

-Chapter One: Not Just a Cold-

He had been through worse. Much worse than a headache, and the occasional chill. Nothing a pain pill and some tea couldn't handle. That's how Hershel Layton initially brushed off what he thought was a simple head cold. He'd be over it in a day or two! Two days in, however, it became evident he was getting worse...

After a long day of lectures, tutoring certain students one-on-one, marking essay after essay, and now reading up on material for the next few lectures, he could barely keep his eyes open! The sudden fatigue took the professor by surprise, as normally it would take much more to wear him out so much. He still had so much work to do, but he just couldn't focus! His eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed his temples; whatever he was actually coming down with, he couldn't simply ignore it!

Hershel decided even a few minutes of rest wouldn't be a bad idea. He hoped, as he got up from his desk chair to lie down on the sofa, that he wouldn't be bothered for at least a short while. He drifted off to sleep for what felt like no more than ten minutes, when...

"...fessor? Professor!" the familiar voice of a certain young apprentice rang in _right_ next to his ear. Just when he was finally relaxed, too!

"What is it, Luke?" the professor asked, as he sat up, unintentionally sounding more irritated than he actually was.

"Are...You feeling alright?" Luke questioned, clearly worried. "You don't look well at all." He wasn't wrong, as it was somewhat unusual for Layton to nap during the afternoon. Plus, he was _rather_ pale, aside from his flushed cheeks.

"Ah, yes. I'm fine." the professor answered, not wanting the boy to stay worried. "Just a hard day that's all."

"You should probably lie back down, then." Luke suggested. As much as the professor appreciated the concern, he initially objected; after all, a gentleman never neglects his responsibilities! He still had so much to do! Alas, in the end fatigue won over, and he soon found himself dozing off once more. This time, he was asleep for what felt like no more than 5 minutes, when he was abruptly awoken again.

"Professor! Professor, wake up!" Emmy called out to him, as she shook his shoulders. Hershel frowned a little as he reluctantly opened his eyes; he could only hope it was _truly_ important this time.

* * *

Turns out it was important, as a case Scotland Yard had been investigating for a bout a month (the exact details of which, the professor couldn't recall at that moment, since he wasn't all that involved for once) was on the verge of being resolved. However, there were still a few obstacles in the way, puzzle locks it seems, keeping the officers from their point of interest. If it weren't for the promise of puzzle solving, he would have instead been preoccupied by the slight sting at his abdomen.

The drive over there was unusually quiet, as was the professor when they arrived to what looked like an abandoned building of sorts. As the three got out of the car, Hershel suddenly grew lightheaded, forcing him to stop and try to regain his composure. It only lasted about a minute before he could continue on, though he kept a slow pace anyway, as a precaution.

Before too long, he was face to face with one of the puzzle locks, which all varied in difficulty, apparently. The officers only needed one to be solved, and they chose the most difficult of the lot! Wonderful! But at least it would keep the professor distracted from his symptoms for awhile. Almost immediately, he got set to solving the lock, managing to tune out his surroundings in the process. About three minutes passed when he was almost finished solving the puzzle. It was at this point that sweat beaded at his forehead, and his hands started to shake a little. He ignored it long enough to undo the lock.

"There you are, Inspector." He said, quieter than intended, as he slowly rose to his feet.

Grosky nodded his thanks, before turning to the other officers and instructed them not to leave any stone unturned. Within a few seconds, Layton, Grosky, Emmy, and Luke were the only four remaining outside the building. There was a brief silence before anyone spoke again.

"You got it from here then, Inspector?" Emmy asked, with a hint of skepticism on the inspector's abilities.

"Of course!" He confidently answered. "Thanks again."

With that, the trio started on their way back to the Laytonmobile, with Layton himself going last, lifting the brim of his hat before taking a few steps. Only for lightheadedness to catch up with him, this time _upping the ante_ with the accompaniment of dizziness. His first move was to grab hold of the nearest sturdy object for support; he just couldn't fall. No, he _wouldn't_ allow it! Although such a task was easier said than done when his surroundings had already begun spinning. His legs were practically _lead_ by this point, thus moving proved difficult, but that didn't stop him from grabbing hold of some nearby crates, and the adjacent fence, while struggling to stay standing in spite of how weak his whole body was growing.

"Professor!" Luke shouted in distress at seeing his mentor in such a state. He, along with Emmy and Grosky, rushed to the professor's side. They seemed to be talking to him, though by then his head was swimming so much, every voice he heard was incoherent. He tried to voice as much, yet every word he uttered came out slurred. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, facing the outside. A few minutes passed before the dizziness finally left.

"Poor thing, you look awful!" Emmy said in concern.

"Blimey. I don't think I've ever seen you this ill, Layton!" Grosky remarked.

"You have a fever!" Luke cried out, after pressing his hand against the professor's forehead. "No wonder you almost fainted!"

Hershel cringed at how much attention this ailment was getting. After all, it could've just been a cold or the flu. Though he had to admit, he _did_ feel rather horrible. He just wouldn't admit it aloud!

* * *

Despite his efforts to stay awake, Hershel must have nodded off not long after he and the others left, because the next time he opened his eyes, he could tall he was home. Once his vision was no longer blurry, it was evident he was lying down on his bed, only wearing his shirt, trousers, and socks. Curious as to whether he was alone, he sat up, _slowly_ as to avoid triggering another dizzy spell as he did, just as Emmy was coming into the room.

"Ah, good! You're awake!" she said, as she sat at the edge of his bed. She held what looked like a thermometer in her right hand, while feeling his forehead with her left. "You're really burning up." she added with a tsk, before holding the thermometer to his mouth. "Say 'ahh'!"

"Ah!" Hershel opened his mouth just enough to let Emmy slide the thermometer under his tongue. It then beeped to indicate it had begun reading. Neither of them said much during this time, so Emmy took the opportunity to observe the ill gentleman in front of her. His skin was quite pale, aside from his flushed face; despite an obvious fever, he shivered uncontrollably to the point she just wanted to bundle him up in all the blankets they had! He seemed to have a bug bite or a rash near his bellybutton, as he absentmindedly scratched at an itch there. Lastly, his eyes were rather dull, and even now he struggled to keep them open, only perking up when the thermometer beeped off, and was carefully taken out of his mouth.

"How on _earth_ were you still standing?" Emmy asked, nearly exclaiming, after seeing the results. "39.2 degrees." she added, knowing he was otherwise about to ask.

Hershel grimaced. Even _he_ knew he wasn't going anywhere with a fever that high. While regaining his strength and lowering his fever were both important, he was anything but fond of the idea of dropping everything just because he was under the weather!

Either way, the night was rather peaceful, though the next morning was not. The stinging, painful itch near his navel was now an aching, burning pain that was twice as itchy. It was the last thing he wanted to wake up to! He struggled just to get up out of bed, and fumbled with his pj shirt trying to remove it. Once he was shirtless, he looked in the mirror, stunned to see a small, blistering, irritated rash.

"My word..." he whispered to himself, now certain his illness was indeed serious.

* * *

And there's chapter one! Never thought I'd actually get this story out there so soon, but even I surprise myself, sometimes! XD

There will be more where that came from. In the meantime, honest reviews please! c:


	2. Chapter 2: And So It Begins

Okay! I didn't realize three weeks had passed since I posted the first chapter! . Sorry about that...Anyway, no further delay. Here's chapter 2! Enjoy!

* * *

-Chapter Two: And So It Begins-

Hershel just couldn't believe that he had broken out into a rash. It was especially baffling, since he wasn't sure what had caused it. Instead, he could only rule out other possibilities; as of recent, he hadn't been near any poisonous plants, nor did any allergy he have cause rashes.

Actually, the more he looked at it, the more it looked like...Chickenpox, maybe? The typical characteristics were there: Itching, irritation, and small, fluid-filled bumps. Plus, he never did recall ever having them as a child. And it certainly explained his other symptoms. Except...If that were the case, then the rash would be breaking out _all over_ his body, not just clustered in one spot! But what else could it have been? He shook his head before putting his PJ shirt back on, and making his way to the phone.

He was far from certain, but that was all the more reason to go find out!

* * *

"Classic case of the shingles, no doubt!" The lab coat clad doctor confirmed, after a thorough physical exam.

"Shingles?" Hershel inquired, as he buttoned his shirt.

"What exactly is that?" Emmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Simply the chickenpox virus reactivated, after years of dormancy." the doctor explained. "No one is entirely sure why the virus sticks around, even after immunity against it is developed, although stress is one of many things believed to contribute."

"So...Is it contagious?" she questioned.

"Only if you never had chickenpox!" the doctor added, as he began writing out a prescription. "Now then, Hershel, I'm putting you on an antiviral medication since your rash is obviously causing you a great deal of pain!" he noted, observing the professor wincing as he clutched the affected area.

"Greatly appreciated, doctor." the professor replied. "Curious. How long will it be before I can go back to work?" he asked, not wanting to take _too_ much time off.

"Well, I'd say just until your fever breaks, which shouldn't take more than a week." the doctor answered, as he finished writing the prescription, then gathered a few pages of information about the illness, and recommended treatment options. "Though the rash itself will take about a fortnight, maybe a month, to scab over and clear up."

"And to think, this is only the first day!" Emmy remarked.

 _To think, this is just the beginning._ thought Hershel.

* * *

After the doctors visit, the pair stopped by Gressenheller on the way home, since the professor had forgotten his trunk in his office the day before, and reasonably so, wanted to retrieve it. He had to call in sick for the rest of the week, anyhow, so he may as well have knocked two birds with one stone, as the saying goes. Though Emmy ended up taking care of both tasks, upon noticing his fever started to catch up with him again, and insisted he should wait in the car.

"Alright, everything's settled!" she said, upon returning to the Laytonmobile, setting the trunk in the backseat before hopping in the drivers seat herself. "Dr. Glaive is filling in for your classes this week. Oh, and Dean Delmona says he hopes you feel better soon!"

No response. When she looked over at the passengers seat, she saw he had fallen asleep while she was away. She didn't want to wake him, but knew she would have to eventually; and 'eventually' may as well be now.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" she spoke softly, while gently shaking his shoulder. Once it was clear he had woken up, she repeated what she tried to tell him before. He simply nodded in response. _He's_ so _out of it!_ she thought, giving him a small sympathetic smile, before starting up the car.

The ride was quiet for awhile, even with the professor now awake. After stopping off at the pharmacy to get his prescribed medicine, along with a few other things, the two were soon back home for real. A good thing, too, as the professor's head started pounding, and dizziness seemed to be returning, even though he wasn't standing.

"You feeling alright?" Emmy asked, noticing him rubbing his forehead while his eyes were tightly squeezed shut. "Does your head hurt?"

"Dizzy..." he barely spoke above a whisper, while nodding to confirm.

"You're probably dehydrated!" she responded, knowing he was still running a fever. "Let's get you back to bed, and I'll get you some water, alright?"

Carrying the bag with the medicine at her shoulder, her arms were free for her to help him get up to his room. Once he was on his bed, she hung the bag on the bedpost before getting him a cup of water. She knew he'd probably rather have tea, even in his current (admittedly pitiful) state, but thankfully for her, he was quick to accept the drink. Almost too quick, since she had to tell him to drink more slowly!

"Better?" she asked, once the cup was empty.

"Yes, thank you." he answered, before wincing at a sudden burn from the rash.

"Right, let's take care of that now." she said, as she sat at the edge of the bed, and reached into the bag from the pharmacy for the bottle of calamine lotion, two tubes of ointment (one lidocaine, the other capsaicin), and some gauze, which were the non-stick pad type.

The professor simply nodded and unbuttoned his shirt. While this was going on, the pair heard the front door open, then close, followed by Luke announcing he was home from school. This made Hershel reach two different conclusions: either school got out earlier than usual, or he had slept in _that_ late. As embarrassing as it was for him to admit, he had a feeling he would have to believe the latter scenario more likely!

"Where is everyone?" Luke called out, as he climbed up the stairs, though it didn't take the boy long to figure out the adults were in the professor's room. He poked his head in before entering. "How are you feeling, Prof-Whoa..." he was about to ask when he noticed the shingles rash. "Professor, you got the chickenpox?"

"Not quite, my boy." Hershel corrected him. "Doctor says it's actually Shingles."

"'Shingles'?" Luke inquired. "Does it hurt at all?" he added as he very gently poked at a blister, which prompted a pained yelp from the professor. Luke immediately apologized profusely, saying 'sorry' at least six times in a row.

"Does that answer your question?" Emmy asked the apprentice. "Why did you do that, anyway?"

"I didn't mean to hurt him!" cried Luke. "But yes, it does. I won't do it again."

"Well, good. Now, go wash your hands! Even if you might be immune, some of your schoolmates might not be." she replied, before turning her attention back to Hershel. And with that, it was just the two of them once more. She opened one of the tubes, which read 'lidocaine', squeezing a small amount onto her fingertips.

"Okay, this shouldn't sting..." she said, knowing by now how painful the rash was for him. She gently applied the ointment, which was greeted with another, this time not so loud, yelp from the professor.

"Ow..." he breathed out. He didn't think it was _that_ sensitive, either, but even he could be surprised once in awhile. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't worry about it!" she assured him with a sympathetic smile. "You can't help it right now." She then repeated the steps (minus the yelping) with the tube of capsaicin, then the calamine lotion, and finally covered it all with one of the gauze pads.

"There we go, all done." she said, as she stood to go wash her hands. She then came back to put the items up. "Now then, since you can't take your medicine on an empty stomach, I'll get you something to eat, okay?" A pause. "In the meantime, you get into something more comfortable!" she added with a wink, and a poke to his nose.

Before the professor could say anything in response, she was already on her way downstairs; though he heard her talking to Luke, all he picked up on was that Luke wanted to help out. Though if Hershel has to be honest, he didn't feel hungry at all. Then again, loss of appetite is common with illness, so he should expect as much.

 _Although...It really wouldn't hurt to get something in my stomach_. he thought, while he changed back into his PJs. Sure enough, by the time he sat back down, he did start to look forward to eating, especially when he heard Emmy coming back up, tray in tow.

"Alright, who's ready to eat?" she asked, upon setting the tray onto his lap.

He could only pretend to not notice the bottles of medicine sitting in one corner, as he started on his lunch. Even when it's 'sick people food', or in this case beef & vegetable soup, and a cup of hibiscus tea, Emmy proved to be a really good cook! Once he had finished, it came time to take the pills; according to the labels on the prescribed antiviral medication, and the ibuprofen, he would have to take one of each every six hours. Great!

 _Well_ , _how_ _am_ _I_ _going_ _to_ _get_ _better_ _otherwise_? he thought, as he put the pills in his mouth, then took a sip of tea, which was just enough to make it easier to swallow. The tray was soon taken up afterwards so Hershel could lay back down and get some much needed rest. He wouldn't admit this out loud either, but he had been looking forward to going back to sleep all day! Especially now since he was nice and warmed up; though he still found himself getting as far under his bedcovers as possible.

"We'll check up on you in a little while, alright?" Emmy said to him rather softly. She received a slow nod from the professor as he drifted off to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Professor!" Luke whispered, before he and Emmy left the room, turning the light off on their way out.

* * *

And there's chapter two! Again, sorry it took so long! I only finished the rough draft for this chapter just the other day.

But anyway! Yes, poor professor is dealing with Shingles, which is the Varicella-Zoster virus (the same one that causes chickenpox) reactivated. Adults age 65+ are most susceptible, but anyone of any age who has had chickenpox is also at risk. Besides a rash, some also experience fever, headache, and fatigue.

As for treatment, antiviral medication is usually prescribed for patients age 65+, but also for patients of any age experiencing moderate to severe pain. Capsaicin is used to help reduce the risk of PHN (a complication of Shingles).

If you ever have Shingles, keep the rash covered, as it is very contagious to anyone who has never had chickenpox. I alluded to this in a previous fanfiction, and ultimately decided to write a fanfiction about it. This AN is getting long now, so honest reviews, please! c:


	3. Chapter 3: Return of the Chills

Okay, I didn't think it would take me this long to get Chapter Three up, but better late than never, right?

Besides that, I've been debating whether to make this fic five chapters long, or six. Let me know what you think!

With that said, enjoy! c:

* * *

-Chapter Three: Return of the Chills-

It had been about a day, maybe two (time _had_ become rather elusive), since the professor first came down with the Shingles. He still had a fever he only noticed half the time, a headache that only occasionally would be pounding and throbbing, and was quite exhausted even now which lulled him into nodding off and on. He hated being sick, as it left him vulnerable and dependent on others, even if neither of his impromptu caregivers minded.

Although, he wasn't completely helpless. Getting out of bed on his own had proven difficult, though not impossible, as evidenced by a trip to to the bathroom that morning to take a shower. Medicine kept his aches and pains at bay for at least a few hours at a time, long enough to rest up. Whenever he was awake, however, his body couldn't make up its mind if he was too hot or too cold; just yesterday, he felt as though he was overcooked! Today, however, he couldn't stop shivering; he _could not_ get warm, even under his bedcovers, much less when he had to separate himself from the covers, while shirtless, in order to tend to the shingles rash.

"There we go!" said Emmy, after taping the fresh gauze in place. Upon coming back from putting things away and washing her hands, she was surprised to see how quickly the renowned archaeologist had slipped his PJ shirt back on, and threw the covers on top of himself, still visibly shaking in spite of becoming a lump with the blankets concealing him the way they did. She held back a laugh before politely pulling the blankets away, just enough to see his face.

"Going back to sleep already?" she asked, gingerly running her fingers through his hair, brushing his scruffy locks away from his warm forehead.

He shook his head, before sitting up. "While I do have a fever," he explained, trying to choose his words carefully. "I barely feel warm at all!"

"Ah. In other words, you need another blanket?" Emmy inquired, having made note of the extra layers of bedding that were added two nights prior.

"Yes, I would appreciate it." Hershel answered, with a rather weak smile. He _really_ didn't want to complain, no matter how unbearable his symptoms could get! Nevertheless, she went and fetched another blanket from the closet, and draped it over his shoulders, in the hopes it would better insulate some much needed warmth.

"Thank you, Emmy!" he said, before his chills hit him again, this time leaving him scowling in frustration.

"Still cold?" she asked with a frown.

"So it would seem..." he confirmed, equally disappointed.

Now this was a puzzle. The professor already had two extra blankets, plus the one at his shoulders (which were all thick fleece blankets at that!), on top of the pre-existing sheets and duvet that were there prior to his illness. She could get yet another blanket, sure, but what good would that do, especially when he would inevitably begin to feel hot again? How else could she warm him up? She pondered until an idea came to her. Without another word, she sat at the edge of his bed, taking off her boots before climbing up next to him, pulling him into her arms.

 _Ah, yes, of course!_ he thought, after the initial surprise of being hugged. _By embracing me, she is sharing her own body heat, thus warming me from these chills!_ Upon realizing this, he allowed himself to relax, even sharing the blanket on his shoulders so that they could both be covered for assured warmth.

Physical affection like this was rare for Hershel, though there were few exceptions, and Emmy was gradually becoming one of them. He trusted her enough, to the point he found himself leaning in, resulting in her tightening her embrace, just slightly so. His chills were not so bad now, in fact he barely felt them, only gathering the covers for comfort. The only real problem by then was staying awake; he wanted to enjoy the warmth, no matter how much fatigue insisted he close his eyes. Tiredly, and unintentionally, he rested his head on her shoulder. The gentle hair stroking that followed assured him it was okay to go to sleep.

* * *

They had stayed like that for about an hour or so, maybe longer, neither really knew for sure. Emmy had fallen asleep not long after Hershel did; not that she minded, it _was_ rare for her to have a cuddle. Naturally, she had made sure to enjoy every moment of it. After all, she didn't know when she'd have to cut the cuddle short.

Actually, she did: it was precisely when a _***clang***_ , along with a shout, came from downstairs which abruptly awoke the pair.

"What on earth...?" mumbled Hershel, who was still half asleep. He made his way to get up when Emmy did, but was stopped when she turned to face him.

"No, Professor. You stay in bed!" she insisted, as she gently moved him to where he was seated once more, before pulling the covers back on him. After that, she went down to investigate; once she had reached the ground floor, the source of the noises became evident when, upon entering the kitchen, she saw Luke in the middle of mopping up a spill.

"Luke, are you alright?" Emmy asked, grabbing a towel to help with the puddle of water. "I heard you shout, and thought you may have hurt yourself."

"I'm fine. I was trying to make tea for you, me, and Professor, but I dropped the kettle!" the boy apprentice explained.

Upon hearing this, she did notice the fallen kettle nearby, and immediately picked it up, quickly realizing there was still some cool water inside. It was here she now knew for sure his shout was out of frustration, not in pain; not that she could blame him either way! Once the spill had been cleaned, Emmy and Luke got to work on brewing some tea for themselves and Hershel.

"What kind of tea should we make today?" Luke wondered aloud, debating between two different tins.

"Any tea you two make is fine with me!" the distinctive voice that could have belonged to Professor Layton rang in. He stood just one step outside the kitchen, with one hand on the threshold, and the other clutching the blanket wrapped around him. He tried to hide it, but he was shivering quite a bit.

"Professor! What are you doing out of bed?" the concerned assistant and apprentice asked in near unison.

"I simply wished to see what the commotion was about." the professor answered rather blankly. "I couldn't just stay put."

"Well, now that you know, could you please go sit down?" Emmy firmly requested, thinking back to the other day when he had that dizzy spell, and nearly collapsed. It didn't help that his fever had barely gone down at all. Thankfully for her, the professor nodded, and made his way towards the stairs. Content with how easy it was to persuade him, she returned to assisting Luke with the tea. The process only took a few minutes after the water had boiled, and soon they had three cups ready. They were about to bound up the stairs, when something in the adjacent sitting room caught their attention.

"I'll take my tea in here, if you don't mind." said the professor, who was curled up in an armchair, the book he was reading now in his lap with his finger acting in place of a bookmark.

"Well, I _do_ mind..." Emmy replied, with a rather concerned look. "I thought I told you-"

"'To go sit down'? Yes, which I am doing now!" Hershel answered back; she could have sworn she saw him smirk as he gave his answer. When she turned to Luke, the boy simply nodded, confirming the gentleman was indeed correct.

She rolled her eyes while giving a small smile, as she approached the sick professor, and kindly handed him his cup. He was grateful his hands were steady enough this time that he didn't have to require assistance (or let go of his book!) while he drank his tea. The hot, soothing drink warmed him, yet his chills _would not_ subside! It was frustrating, though he opted out of complaining; all gentlemen knew better!

After he had finished his cup, he soon started shivering again, though slightly worse now. At which point Hershel was led over to the nearby sofa where Emmy and Luke sat while they were drinking their tea, which both cups had since been finished off. He was then seated between them, and gently brought into a cuddle, just as he and Emmy were earlier; although now they kept each other awake by exchanging puzzles. There was one other major difference, as well:

After a few minutes, his chills went away completely!

* * *

And there's chapter three finally, yay! I know updating this fic, and one other, took longer than anticipated, but at least I got to it, right?

Anyway, honest reviews, please! c:


	4. Chapter 4: A Sudden Turn

Chapter Four is finally here! This took me awhile, since I had to rewrite from the initial rough draft (I just didn't like how it turned out the first time). But now that I know where to go from the previous chapter now, enjoy! c:

* * *

Chapter Four: A Sudden Turn

"Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" Emmy asked the professor, who had just taken his first dose of medicine for that day. Being his assistant meant there were obligations for her to attend in his place whenever he couldn't, and today was such an instance. However, she was hesitant; rightfully so since he was still sick with a fever that refused to go down.

"Yes, I believe so." Hershel confirmed, setting his glass of water on the bedside table. "Faculty meetings usually only last for about an hour or two. I'm sure I'll be fine until you return."

"I could always stay here." she stated.

He shook his head. "Attendance is always mandatory."

"You're certain?" she asked, reaching for his forehead while noting his flushed face.

"I'm _certain_ I will be fine." he insisted, politely taking her hand away from his face. "Until Luke returns from school, I doubt things here will be too eventful."

"Alright, then!" said she, seemingly returning to her usual demeanor. "See you in a few hours."

Hershel sighed and shook his head while he heard the engine of Emmy's scooter rev as she drove off. Honestly, he wished she wasn't so overbearing of him. True, he wasn't 100% better, but he was certainly more so than he did when he first became ill earlier that week! That said, he wasn't ungrateful of her to tend to him, going as far as keeping him fed, and taking care of the rash herself, in fact he appreciated it all. He had leaned back into his pillow, when across the bedroom, something grabbed his attention.

It was his trunk, which hadn't been opened since he first got sick. He vaguely remembered what all had been left incomplete, and what had yet to be started on still. Curiosity got the better of him, as he pushed the bedcovers away, and slowly made his way to the case, bringing it back to the bed with him before opening it up.

 _This should be fine so long as I stay in bed._ He thought, while going through essays that had yet to be marked. Every so often he paused to rub his temples; some of the answers he received were not exactly helping his headache...

Once that was said and done, he decided to read up on some upcoming lecture material next. It's true he wouldn't be back to lecturing for a little while longer, but that was no reason to fall behind on such vital information! He found himself rather focused from the moment he began; or at least as focused as his illness would allow him. He was about halfway through when the now familiar dizziness crept up around the same time as his vision briefly went out of focus, and his shingles rash suddenly burned, causing him to openly groan in pain. In the moment, he was tempted to double over and clutch his abdomen; he only didn't since he knew touching there now would do more harm than good.

 _The medicine...Must be wearing off!_ Hershel thought, before slowly getting out of bed. He set one foot on the floor, then paused, before the other foot joined the first. Gradually, he stood up, his hands refusing to let go of the nearest furniture in order to keep his balance. Step after shaky step, he made his way to the medicine cabinet, leaning against the bathroom sink in front of the now exposed shelves while debating where to start first. After pondering a moment, he reached for the thermometer; he _had_ to know exactly how bad his fever was getting. While it was reading, he took the bottles of pain reliever, and antiviral medication, struggling to read the minuscule labels despite his blurring vision.

On one hand, he knew he had to lie down; he knew he should call Emmy to _please come help_! However, she was probably still in that meeting, and having her leave so soon would not go without its consequences. It would have been one thing if they were going on an adventure, but it had been awhile since their last trip, and there had yet to be plans for another anytime soon. And even if she had just gotten out, he was doubtful he could get to the phone at the rate he was going.

His train of thought was interrupted by the thermometer beeping off; when he took it out of his mouth, he could barely make out 39.7 degrees on the small screen. The professor decided to take matters into his own hands, with the intention of bringing the pills back to his room. That in and of itself proved to be a challenge once the hallway began spinning, his ears started ringing, and nausea welled up in his chest. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a figure bounding up the stairs, though he wasn't sure who...or _what_ it was! Before Hershel knew it, he was led back to his bed, landing a bit slower than he thought he would. Eventually, the dizziness passed once more, and his eyes met a very clearly anxious Emmy tending to his rash.

"I can't believe I forgot to take care of this before heading out!" she spoke to herself. "I'm gone for two hours, and this is what happens! I knew this was a bad idea. Why must those meetings be held so early anyway?"

"It's so...It's so to not interfere with the students schedules." he answered, to which she jumped in surprise.

"Is that so?" she asked, as she went applying the calamine lotion, followed by the fresh gauze. No response, though she didn't expect one anyhow. "There. Now then, are you hungry at all?"

The professor nodded, fully aware he wouldn't otherwise be able to take the antiviral medicine, which was the most effective at tackling his symptoms. The two didn't say anything to each other after that. He could tell she wasn't in the best of moods; though it was most likely more so directed towards herself, he could sense part of it being directed towards him as well. He decided not to think too hard on the subject, holding off until after he finished eating, and taking his pills.

"Good boy." she said, rather blankly, as she took up the tray. "Now you get some rest, for real this time."

The professor blinked, quite perplexed by what he had just heard. "I have been resting." he stated.

"No, Professor." she snapped, setting the tray aside, and taking up the trunk and its contents. "Doing paperwork is _not_ resting! If anything, it's putting you under even more stress, which is how you became ill to begin with!" She stopped herself from ranting any further, adjusting to trunk and tray stacked atop one another.

"Where are you going with my-" he was about to inquire before he was cut off.

"You can have it back after your rash goes away." she firmly answered on her way out.

"That won't be for-" he attempted to rebuttal with little success.

"I mean it." she added, before shutting the door with her free hand.

* * *

Hours passed since then. Emmy had checked in on the professor a few times, though he was asleep all the while. After Luke returned from school, she had sent the boy up in her place, and planned to send him up again once dinner was ready. Though she had no intention of sharing the spat she had with Hershel earlier that day, Luke questioned her overall demeanor enough until she ultimately confided to him what had happened.

"I think you were overreacting a little, Emmy." Luke stated. "I mean, the professor probably thought he could handle it all on his own. Grownups usually think that way. And he was still in bed; I'm sure he would have rested up after he was through reading."

"I suppose he was trying to make things easier for me..." the assistant replied, after a short pause. "But seeing him staggering then, well, you saw him the other day, too."

"Yes, I did. I guess I can't blame you." the apprentice agreed. "It is rather worrisome."

"I think I'll have a talk with him if he's up for it." said Emmy, now feeling better about the situation.

* * *

Hershel awoke to the doorknob turning, followed by his bedroom door opening. Though he wished to remain lying down, he pushed himself into sitting up to greet his guests.

"Oh! Did we wake you?" Emmy asked, setting the tray on the bedside table.

"No, not at-" the professor tried to confirm before struggling to stifle a yawn. "...Not at all." Neither Emmy nor Luke could help but smile. Though those smiles went away when she instinctively rested her hand on the Professor's burning forehead.

"Oh, wow. Your fever really isn't going down, is it?" she worriedly questioned. "Luke, go fetch the thermometer and a cold washcloth." The boy nodded before hesitantly leaving the room, and Emmy's attention was back on Hershel once again. "Do you think you can stomach some food?"

"Yes, I believe so." he answered, reaching out when he saw his hands shaking uncontrollably. "Oh dear..." he muttered.

"Here, I'll help." she said, taking notice of the issue as well. He was reluctant on the idea of somebody else feeding him like a small child, but agreed to it this one time, not wanting to risk a spill.

From dinner time, until bedtime, the rest of the evening was spent keeping a close eye on the feverish, ill gentleman. A doable task, so long as the assistant and the apprentice were awake. It was a different story when they were both sleeping, however. The next time either of them woke up later that night...

"Emmy...Emmy?" Luke's voice barely started becoming audible. When she opened her eyes, she immediately sat up, surprised she had fallen asleep at all! Next, she saw the PJ-clad Luke standing beside her, and he seemed quite distressed. Also...

"Luke?...Where's the Professor?" Emmy asked, trying very hard not to jump to conclusions, despite laying eyes on the empty bed, with no sign of him in the vicinity.

"I don't know!" the boy barely managed to reply. "I've looked everywhere. I don't think he's still in the flat!"

 _Oh no..._ she thought, as she too searched throughout the place with no luck on her part either. She soon returned to the bedroom, while putting on her coat and her boots. "Luke, you stay here in case he comes back. I'm going to go after him."

"But what if he doesn't?" he inquired.

There was a pause.

"Stay here, just in case." she reinstated. It wasn't that she thought the boy apprentice would slow her down, far from it actually; rather, seeing the cold, damp night just beyond the windows not only reminded her how sick Luke could potentially get, but just how sick Hershel was, and how much worse it could become. And if things went from bad to worse...Well, it was better if he wasn't there as a witness!

"...Alright." he answered, surprisingly not so reluctant to hold down the fort, as he watched her leave.

* * *

And there's two-thirds of the story down!

You're probably wondering how the professor could get worse. Well, like in the case of many illnesses, a person who catches shingles is likely to develop complications, most commonly pneumonia (esp. if they are in a high-risk group; older adult, immuno-compromised, etc.). But who knows? Maybe he'll be saved in time!

Until the next chapter, honest reviews, please! c:


	5. Chapter 5: The Unexpected Savior

What is up, guys? Here's chapter 5, the second-to-last chapter for this story! It just came and went, much like the anime (of which I will be watching the latest episode later tonight, so please NO spoilers!).

Without further ado, enjoy! c:

* * *

-Chapter Five: The Unexpected Savior-

It was not the most ideal of nights to be out. A rainstorm had started a little earlier in the evening, heavier than a drizzle, though not quite a downpour. On the residential streets, the only source of light came from the softened glow of the streetlights, and the roads themselves abandoned by most people in favor of the warmth and comfort of their homes. A light, yet harsh cold breeze drifted through, causing the rain to sway every so often. It was a night that emphasized England's fame for inclement weather, and did nothing to ease Emmy Altava's worries in her search for the missing Professor.

 _I checked every street and alley in his neighbourhood, and_ still _no sign of him!_ She thought, while she debated whether or not to head back, call the police, or continue searching. She continued to drive on her scooter, sporadically calling out to the Professor, in the hopes he would miraculously appear. She decided to check the university next. Between the grounds, the halls, and his study, she still couldn't find him!

"Oh...Where could he be?!" She groaned, before a distant flash of light caught her eye. "Oh no..." she muttered. As much as she hated to admit it, there was no way she was going to be able to fine the Professor on her own! She decided to check one more place; not only would she consider it likely for him to be there, it would also be a good place to escape the rain for awhile.

* * *

He wasn't sure how it happened. Getting captured was _not_ a part of their plan! And while Hershel didn't wish to leave Emmy and Luke behind, he knew it would be easier to go it alone, then return with help. If only he could figure out where he was to begin with! Then he'd know where to go...

Trekking across the wet pavement, and stepping in the occasional puddle, the Professor glanced right and left at his surroundings. Whenever a breeze blew in, he gripped the brim of his hat, enduring the cold air where he stood; once it subsided, he continued on. Looking to his left again, in spite of the rain, he could unmistakably see the River Thames. He was still in London! The illuminated Tower Bridge in the distance only further confirmed it. As he made his way there, lightheadedness briefly returned, and with it, a realization for the Professor.

"Wait, what am I doing out here?" He asked himself, straightening his coat and hat. "I need to get home..." A short pause, before his previous train of thought returned. "...No. I need to fetch help, that's right."

Either way, he made his way towards the bridge. Once he was there, he would know exactly where to go. Although, he only made it two-thirds of the way there, when a sharp, burning pain on his abdomen flared up, forcing him to stop in his tracks! With the breeze blowing, and picking up fast, he crouched down with one hand above the pained area, the other holding onto his hat, and his back to the railing. The rainfall especially left him shivering, as it dampened his clothes. In and out, he would briefly come back to his senses, though even then he found himself at a loss.

"How could I allow this-?!" He hissed under his breath, as he futilely tried to shield himself from the storm.

* * *

 _I didn't think I would be back here so soon..._ thought Emmy, upon entering the infamous Scotland Yard. As much as she didn't want to get the police involved, even she knew she could only cover so much ground on her own.

"Emmy?" Somebody called out to her. She turned to see Inspector Grosky, who appeared to be heading home for the night.

"Oh, Inspector-!" She spoke.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, clearly concerned upon taking note of her disheveled appearance. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, there is." She confirmed. "You didn't happen to see the Professor, did you?"

He shook his head. "Why would he be here? Isn't he still ill?"

"He is." She confirmed again. "Earlier today, his fever started getting worse. Luke and I kept an eye on him until we both fell asleep. When we woke up, the Professor was gone!"

"So he's missing, is he?" The Inspector inquired. It didn't take long for him to decide what to do. "Normally, the protocol says to wait twenty-four hours...But, since he's ill with a high fever, and possibly delirious, we'll search for him right away!"

"Ah, thank you, Inspector! You'll be a big help." said Emmy, who for once was sincere.

"I'll get the patrolling constables on the lookout as well! We'll cover the whole city if we need to!" He added, initiating the search party.

* * *

He was uncertain how long he had been crouched with his back to the railing. Had it been seconds? Minutes? _Hours?_ The rain fell a little harder now, and he thought he had heard the deep boom of thunder in the distance. He _knew_ he had to get to safety, but his body just wouldn't budge! The gradual sleepiness didn't help things either, as he was now struggling to keep his eyes open, though he couldn't focus on anything. Was he panicking? It would explain why his breath was so shallow. Eventually his mind went blank, though he could barely hear noises aside from the storm.

"...ton? Layton. _Layton_!" A voice rang in. It came from right in front of him. Hershel looked up, barely able to make out the white masquerade mask. No, it couldn't be...He had to still be hallucinating!

"D-Des...!" Hershel could only slur his response. "You...What did...Fiend?!"

"...That was hardly a sentence." Descole said with a blank face. "Why are you out here? Much less why are you out here with only a coat over your bedclothes, and no shoes?"

"Emmy...Luke...I...Captured...By you!" He barely managed to sputter out, struggling to point at the other man.

Initially, Descole was surprised by this accusation. He had nothing to do with Layton and his companions in at least the a few months! This must have been a dream the archaeologist had; one he was clearly still experiencing, even though he had since awoken. As he pulled the other man to stand up, he observed excessive shivering and the lack of balance from him. If his flushed, sweaty face was anything to go on, Layton was running a fever requiring medical attention.

"Where are you...Taking...?" Hershel tried to ask, though he received no verbal response; instead he was led to a carriage of some sort. In a panic, he resisted, pulling away from Descole's grip.

"What do you think you're-?!" Descole shouted, grasping a firmer hold on the ill gentleman.

In the midst of their struggle, a sharp spasm of pain hit Hershel in the gut, resulting in him screaming before doubling over. He nearly fell when the masked man caught him midway, nearly as stunned as he was! He began to practically _claw_ at his abdomen, which came off as odd to his would-be kidnapper.

Unsure of what to make of the situation, Descole shook his head, and brought the other man into his carriage.

* * *

She kept checking her watch every other second. It had been about two hours since she first discovered the Professor's absence. Due to the storm, they decided to stick to driving in a patrol car, instead of walking. So far, she and Grosky had had no luck in finding him, to which they both grew more worried with each passing minute.

"Just how far could he have really gone?!" cried Emmy, after yet another street showed no sign of Hershel. She leaned into her hand, absentmindedly staring out the window, in total distress. Grosky stopped to speak with a patrolling constable. She didn't expect any new leads, so only certain key words from the conversation grabbed her attention.

"At London Bridge Hospital, you say?" the Inspector questioned.

"Hospital?!" Emmy yelped as she snapped back to reality.

"That's exactly what I saw!" The short and stout Scotland Yard constable answered. "He was being escorted by another man about as tall as he is, with reddish-brown hair and red-framed glasses."

"Seems we know where to look! Thanks for the tip!" said Grosky, as the constable saluted them both before going back on patrol.

* * *

And there's chapter 5!

Stay tuned, as there is one more chapter to go! In the meantime, honest reviews, please! c:


	6. Chapter 6: Calm After The Storm

Here it is: the final chapter! I'm a little sad it's over, but I'm excited to present it.

Fair warning: This one is longer than the others. Much longer.

With that out of the way: Enjoy! c:

* * *

-Chapter Six: Calm After The Storm-

He tried to open his eyes, with very little success. Barely conscious, he could only deduce he was being carried; presumably by Descole, since he was the most recent person Hershel had come across. But where was he taking him? That question never did get answered. Or...Was it Emmy? Perhaps she escaped capture as well? Although, if that were the case, why would she be carrying him? And what of Luke? Was he not with them? He heard people talking, but had no idea what they were saying; as a matter of fact, they didn't even _sound_ like anyone he knew...

When he finally could open his eyes, they were greeted by near-blinding lights, and they closed tight once again. A few minutes passed when something sharp yet small jabbed itself into his left arm, to which he struggled to suppress a surprised, pained shout.

"Seems he felt that!" remarked a woman's voice he was unfamiliar with. "No, no! Leave it in!" She gently insisted upon catching Hershel grabbing where he had been jabbed, in an attempt to remove the object. Something then held onto his right hand. Another set of hands, perhaps? Then something beeped off, and was removed from his mouth.

 _How long had that been there?_ He wondered.

"That's really high..." An anxious man gulped. He didn't recognize this man, either!

 _Just what on earth is going on?!_ Was all he could think.

His head started swimming again before he could listen to the remainder of the conversation. The next thing he knew, his chest and arms were exposed and met with...Packs of ice? It was only when the cold wet pouches were laid on top his sweaty, hot body, did he realize the dire situation he was in, after which, he stopped resisting. Some time passed; he wasn't sure what medicine he was injected with, but it seemed to help, as his head and body aches lessened in severity. Though now, he was rather sleepy as well...

* * *

It wasn't long after Emmy and Inspector Grosky arrived at the hospital that they learnt which room number the Professor was in, and rushed down the corridor until they found the room itself. The door was shut, so Emmy knocked, and was surprised to hear a "come in" from inside. Upon entering, while Grosky stayed at the threshold, she blinked when she saw another man sitting at the Professor's bedside. He had reddish-brown hair, and red-framed glasses, exactly like the constable had described.

"Oh, hello!" said Emmy, before she approached him. "You must be...?"

"Desmond Sycamore." He confirmed, extending his right arm. "Are you, by any chance, the "Emmy" Hershel here mentioned in the midst of his rambling?"

"I am!" She answered, taking his hand as they shook. "I can't thank you enough!"

"It was no trouble." Desmond stated.

"Where was he?" She asked, laying eyes on the sleeping professor.

"A few meters short of Tower Bridge's entrance." said he. "I was returning home from an evening out, when I happened to spot him shielding himself from the thunderstorm."

"How long has he been here?" Emmy asked. "Will he be staying overnight?"

"It's been almost two hours now." said Desmond, briefly checking his watch, before returning it to his pocket. "He was delirious, along with showing a few early signs of hypothermia." A pause. " Ice packs were used to help break his fever, and he was also put on IV treatment. His shingles rash was redressed as well." A pause longer than the first. "...And the ER staff is currently debating whether to keep him overnight, on the off chance he develops pneumonia."

"Does that happen often?" She asked, taking in what he had just said.

"I suppose it is possible. Hershel is the only one who knows how long he had been out there for, though I doubt he'll remember." He responded. "I apologize; I may not be the best person to ask about this."

"Are they still debating?" She asked. "Did you say it was alright?"

"No, I've yet to." He answered. "They want to see how he's doing once this IV is finished." He added, pointing to the IV bag that still contained just under a full 30 minutes worth of fluids.

She could only nod in understanding. Despite how small the room was, she made her way to sit next to the Professor, opposite of Desmond, until Desmond offered her his seat, which she gratefully accepted. It was quite late now, but she just had to make sure Hershel was okay.

"Professor..." Emmy whispered, while gently stroking his hand with her thumb. "Professor, can you hear me?" She watched as he slowly opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut in response to the bright ceiling lights. Noticing this, she motioned Grosky to dim them a little; once that was done, the Professor managed to open his eyes without much trouble, only somewhat surprised at his surroundings.

"D...Descole?" He mumbled, still clearly half asleep. Desmond grew nervous, thinking the other man was looking at him in that moment.

"What? No. Descole isn't here!" Emmy corrected him, to which he turned his head towards her. "It's me. It's Emmy."

"Emmy..." he quietly repeated. "What happened?" he asked. "Where's Luke?"

"What happened, Professor, was your fever got the better of you." She answered, before sharing with him a summarized version of that night's events.

"I'm...I'm terribly sorry..." Hershel frowned as he apologized, looking away in place of his usual concealing his eyes with his hat. He knew he had been a stubborn patient, even if he didn't want to admit it. "I should have awoken you then."

"Somehow, I think you would have ended up here either way!" She remarked with a sympathetic smile.

Just then, a knock; it was one of the ER doctors coming to check the professor's vitals, along with observing the progress on the IV, which now had about 15 minutes worth of fluids.

"Why, you seem to be doing rather well now." The doctor remarked, once everything checked out. "We might have to keep you overnight, after all!"

"That is excellent to hear!" the half-awake Professor said.

"We'll let the IV finish up, while I fetch the discharge papers." said the doctor, before exiting the room. He didn't take long, only about a 15 minute wait. Once the papers were filled out and signed, Hershel was free to go.

"It's rather late, so I'll escort you both home." Grosky spoke.

"Thank you, Inspector." Hershel replied, as he looked around for his shoes, before remembering he didn't have them. _Oh dear. I seem to be a bit out of it still..._

Noticing the Professor was still a bit unsteady as he stood, Desmond helped him the whole way to the patrol car, insisting the other man lie down in the backseat. Though offered a ride as well, Desmond declined, since his ride was still waiting for him at the other side of the building.

 _Get better soon, Layton._ He thought, as he saw the others off. _Life is rather_ dull _without anyone to play with!_

* * *

A week passed since then. The Professor was doing much better since his fever went away! His rash had scabbed over, too, and no longer needed to be covered with gauze; his favorite sweater could now do the job just as easily. In fact, he finally returned to work, the worry of anyone else getting sick now behind him.

Or so he thought...

"Look, Professor!" Luke called out as he entered the study, and approached his mentor. He then held out a white envelope. "A letter came in for you."

"Thank you, my boy!" the Professor replied upon accepting the letter, opening it to see who it was from, as he didn't recognize the return address. "Let's see what it says..."

 _To Professor Hershel Layton,_

 _I hope you are recovering well from your ailment. Believe me when I say it was shocking to find you ill and delirious. I wished to check to see how you were doing in person before I embark on another excavation, but due to the short amount of time I have before I leave, a letter will have to suffice for now._

 _Let us meet again sometime in better circumstances!_

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Professor Desmond Sycamore_

"That's the Good Samaritan who got you to the hospital, right?" asked Luke. "That's nice of him to check on you!"

"Indeed." Hershel commented, blinking at the bad handwriting, before folding the letter back into the envelope, and setting it aside on his desk. "I'll have to reply soon! In the meantime, Luke, have you heard from Emmy? She's normally here around this time, but today she has yet to arrive."

Luke shook his head. "Have you tried to phone her?" he asked.

"A few times, but she never answered." The Professor confirmed. A pause. "I do think we should pay her a visit."

* * *

Still groggy despite a long restless night, and sleeping in all that morning, she opened her eyes, vision taking longer to come into focus than usual. Even with the humidifier she had running, she had trouble catching her breath in between coughing fits. She had been feeling unwell for a few days now, and especially felt worse today. Her illness was further confirmed by her thermometer when she checked her temperature.

 _I should eat something, but I'm not hungry..._ she thought, reluctant to push away her warm covers again, knowing her bare feet had to touch the cold hard floor to do anything!

"I need some tea..." she decided, after pondering the idea for a minute. While the kettle was filled and put on the stove, she heard a knock at her flat's door.

"Emmy?" A familiar voice was barely audible from the other side of the thick door, followed by another knock. "Emmy? Are you home?"

"Emmy, it's us!" Another voice chimed in. "Professor and Luke!"

"Coming..." She could barely speak up with her raspy voice. _Why are those two here?_ she wondered, as she opened the door to greet her unexpected guests, only to be met with even more coughing.

"Wow, you look terrible!" Luke bluntly remarked. A bit harsh, though she had to agree with him; between her un-brushed hair, her heavily flushed face, and her disheveled PJs, she really was a mess!

"Have you gone to see a doctor yet?" the Professor asked, after placing his hand on her forehead.

Emmy attempted to verbalize a "no", but ultimately found herself shaking her head instead. "I...I was going to go later this afternoon...I made the appointment yesterday..."

"But it is afternoon." Luke stated.

"It is?" she asked, only to receive two confirming nods in response. Not long after that, Emmy was taken to her regular clinic.

"Aye, I've 'eard this kinda rattlin' before." said the scrubs-clad doctor while listening to Emmy's heartbeat and breathing with her stethoscope. "It's definitely pneumonia!"

"I see. I'm...I'm not going to have to go to the hospital, am I?" Emmy questioned in between coughs.

"In yer case, I doubt it." said the doctor. "Yer symptoms are pretty mild, so I'm sure yer boyfrien' can take good care o' ya, no problem!"

 _'Boyfriend'...?_ Emmy wondered. _Oh, she didn't mean-_ Flustered, she tried to correct the other woman, but a coughing fit hindered her from doing so.

* * *

"She thought I was your boyfriend, did she?" Hershel asked Emmy with a small chuckle, while pouring her a cup of tea, adding a little honey to help sooth her throat.

"Yes, I tried to correct her, but no luck." she answered. "Ah, thanks." she added, as she accepted the cup, breathing in some of the steam before taking a sip.

Hershel joined her on the sofa, pulling the blanket closer to her shoulders so she remained well covered. It wasn't the first time the pair had been mistaken for a couple, yet it could still catch them both off guard so easily! And, if asked at that moment if he could picture it himself, Hershel would be quick to say yes. It would be nice, since he hadn't felt intimately close with anyone in years; _if only he had the heart to move on..._

"Maybe you two should start dating." An unexpected response came from Luke, who was getting himself a cup of tea.

"W-wait, what now, Luke?" The two adults nearly said in unison. Sheepishly, they tried to laugh it off.

"Oh, Luke." Hershel started, inviting the boy to sit with them. "Even if Emmy and I...liked each other... _that way_...we would still be first and foremost Professor and assistant!"

"It would not be...Very professional." Emmy added, as she cleared her throat.

"Yes, and we wouldn't want to mix business with personal." the Professor stated.

"...Does that all make sense?" Emmy asked, hoping neither would have to elaborate further.

"I suppose." Luke answered. "It sounds a bit complicated, though..."

"Yeah, some things just tend to be!" said Emmy, relieved they could brush it off so easily!

Even if they aren't a couple, the Professor continued to take care of Emmy for the duration of her illness, in return for taking care of him. After all, it was simply the gentlemanly thing to do!

The End

* * *

And that is that!

Here's the last bit of medical info for this fic:

IV treatment works by delivering much needed fluids through a tube directly into the bloodstream. It consists of saline solution, along with medicine and vitamin supplements. Since the bag is hung above the patient's head, gravity carries the fluids into the veins gradually. The duration of a single treatment usually lasts no more than an hour.

Pneumonia is caused by many different factors, depending on its type. A virus and bacteria are the most common causes. Diagnosis is based on how breathless you feel, how long you've had a cough for, and if you are experiencing chest pain. Doctors usually also check for any crackling or rattling sounds in the chest with a stethoscope.

Mild pneumonia can be treated at home with bed-rest, fluids, and antibiotics.

And that is all the wisdom I have to share this time. Until we meet again with a new story, honest reviews, please! c:


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